


After the fall

by Catkween27



Category: Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children - Ransom Riggs
Genre: Mphpc, miss peregrines, ymbrynes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:01:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28242822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catkween27/pseuds/Catkween27
Summary: After the fall of the wights and Caul, the Ymbrynes take a moment to reflect on the fact that they survived. I did my best to include all twelve of them... so... I tried 😅
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	After the fall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pearlislove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearlislove/gifts).



There were twelve of them. Twelve Ymbrynes seated around a little room. Their children were asleep in Bentham’s library, but there would be no rest for them. They had seen too much. They were too shaken. 

So there they sat, perched on mismatched chairs and old benches in an unused music room, silent, save for the sound of their breathing. They were still doubting that what they saw in front of them was real and not some figment of their imagination. Their sisters, battered and bruised, but alive. And free. 

A little sniffle could be heard, resonating in the still air, after a moment it turned into a choked sob coming from the mouth of Millicent Thrush, sitting in the corner and clutching a broken wrist. Immediately her sisters turned towards her, asking what was wrong. Miss Thrush shook her head.

“Nothing” she choked out, looking up at the women surrounding her with teary eyes.

“I just can’t believe we’re alive” she whispered, blinking a couple times and offering a watery smile. 

“I don’t think any of us can” Miss Peregrine said from across the room, where she was busy tending to several scrapes and cuts squired by Edalyn Kestrel during the battle. There was a small murmur of agreement from around the room.

“We must thank the birds for our safety” Miss Avocet said, wringing gnarled hands together in her lap as she sat sandwiched between Miss Bunting and Miss Wren. 

“It wasn’t the birds who saved us, Esmerelda” Miss Wren spoke up quietly.

“It was the children. Alma’s children” she said, directing a small smile at Miss Peregrine.

“Without them I’m quite sure we would be dead” 

Again, a murmur of approval could be heard around the room.

“I’d say this rather deserves a toast” Miss Kestrel said after a moment, squirming away from Miss Peregrine before she could dab any more alcohol on her scraped knees.

“I think I saw some mulberry wine in the kitchen” she added, shaking her skirts out over her knees and nudging the bottle of alcohol Miss Peregrine had been using further away with her bare toes. 

“That’s a lovely idea, Edalyn” Miss Wren said

“I think we could use a drink right now” she sighed, looking around the room again at there Miss Thrush was still sniffling, and Miss Glassbill was sitting completely motionless against a wall. 

Miss Kestrel got up, her torn skirt swishing around bare ankles as she left the room followed by Miss Avocet’s gaze.

“Dear me...” the older woman breathed 

“The poor girl hasn’t got any shoes!” She said, sounding almost scandalized.

“I’m sure she’ll be alright, Esmerelda” Miss Bunting told her, patting Miss Avocet fondly on the arm. 

“We’ll find her some new ones in the morning” she declared, leaning back against the couch she was sitting on, her hands folded neatly over her stomach and her eyes closing for a moment. Miss Avocet huffed a little, but didn’t say anything else. 

Another sniffle made its way across the room, causing Miss Bunting to open her eyes again. 

“Are you quite alright, Millicent?” She asked Miss Thrush who seemed to be struggling not to cry. Miss Thrush bobbed her head, but a tear leaked down her cheek anyway.

“Come on, Millie, pull yourself together” said the Irish accented voice of Miss Gannet sitting next to her. 

“I’m t-trying!” Miss Thrush told her. Miss Gannet muttered something under her breath, but wrapped an arm around Miss Thrush, patting her awkwardly in the shoulder.

“There’s a good lass” she said, handing the other woman a wrinkled handkerchief. 

“Let her cry if she needs to, Siobhan” Miss Cuckoo told Miss Gannet with a little frown. Miss Gannet frowned right back.

“There’s no use in tears, Isabelle” she told Miss Cuckoo as she continued to pat Miss Thrush on the back, 

“Now tell us what’s bothering you, Millie, and then dry those tears” she told her with uncharacteristic gentleness. 

“It’s m-my wrist!” Miss Thrush cried, holding up her injured wrist and choking back a sob. She gestured to a piano that had been shoved into a corner

“What if I can’t play anymore!” She said before dissolving into fresh tears. Miss Gannet sighed 

“We’ll get your bloody wrist fixed, Millicent, and the damned piano will be waiting for you when it’s healed.” She said, and Miss Thrush nodded miserably.

“I wish you wouldn’t talk like that” Florence Treecreeper scolded, leaning around Miss Thrush to give Miss Gannet a disapproving glare.

“Like what, Florence?” Miss Gannet scowled, tossing a stray lock of fiery red curls over her shoulder. 

“Like-well-in such a thoroughly inappropriate fashion” Miss Treecreeper said with an indignant sniff, which made Miss Babax beside her dissolve into giggles.

“Florence, dear, how long have you known Siobhan now? I’d rather say you would be used to the way she talks” she said, still laughing quietly. Her laughter caused a chain reaction, and soon a ripple of stifled giggles had overcome the Ymbrynes in the room, giggles which turned into a real laugh when Miss Gannet muttered something under her breath in Gaelic. 

“What’ve you said now?” Miss Treecreeper huffed irritably. 

“She said she hopes you fall on your head” Miss Nightjar (the linguist of the group) translated, nearly doubling over from laughing. 

“Well at least that’s the direct translation” she said between gasps of air

“I’d say it’s rather a more serious insult in Gaelic” 

Miss Treecreeper’s eyes widened in horror. 

“Siobhan!” She exclaimed, horrified. 

“You told me not to talk like ‘that’” Miss Gannet snickered 

“So I said something else, it’s not my bloody fault if Sarah translated it” she said, with a little wink in Miss Nightjar’s direction. 

Miss Treecreeper probably would have gone on an entire tirade about ladylike language, but thankfully she was stopped by the return of Miss Kestrel who was balancing several glasses along with three bottles of wine on a tray. 

“Oh bollocks!” She cursed as two of the glasses tumbled off the tray, thankfully tumbling into Miss Peregrine’s lap rather than onto the floor. 

From her spot on the couch Miss Avocet sighed, on a usual day she would have chastised the younger Ymbrynes several times by now. For swearing, for bickering amongst themselves, for being clumsily, for not wearing shoes... but this wasn’t a usual day, so she let it slide, simply happy that her sisters were well enough to get on her nerves. 

Miss Kestrel passed out the glasses, sloshing some wine into each one before reclaiming her seat next to Miss Peregrine.

“A toast!” She said, raising her glass and nearly spilling wine down her shirt.

“To Alma’s wards. Thank goodness they never listen to her” she said, downing her glass in one go and gaining a nudge in the ribs from Miss Peregrine who was smiling none the less. 

“I suppose, for once, you may be right Edalyn” she smiled, bringing her own glass to her lips and realizing that for the first time in years, perhaps they would truly be alright.


End file.
